


The Devil Just Keeps On Knocking

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Kings of Nowhere [75]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Battle Buddies, Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Pre-Fake AH Crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Jeremy’s still learning Los Santos when a promising opportunity falls into his lap.
Relationships: Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood
Series: Kings of Nowhere [75]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/789789
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	The Devil Just Keeps On Knocking

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for Anon who asked for Battle Buddies in the FAHC AU.

Jeremy’s still learning Los Santos when a promising opportunity falls into his lap.

Almost literally, because Matt and clumsiness and the kind of clutter you’d find on one of those cable shows where the host acts like their client is committing crimes against humanity.

Which.

Hey, who knows, maybe some of them are.

“So, I know a guy,” Matt tells him after Jeremy sets him back on his feet.

Jeremy stares at Matt, well aware if anyone else said that to him he’d turn right the hell around and walk out without looking back.

But this is Matt, and he’s _Matt._

“Yeah?” 

Matt sighs and digs his laptop out from under another pile of clutter.

Papers, mostly. 

A few wanted flyers of Los Santos’ notorious criminals. Take-out menus. Printouts for something or other Matt’s working on. Empty wrappers from candy bars and that burger place a few blocks down.

“Jesus, Matt, really?”

Matt shrugs, unbothered, and fusses with his laptop for a bit before he spins it around to show Jeremy something.

Hits a key and the something starts playing, a video clip from...somewhere Matt managed to get his grubby hands on.

Voices Jeremy doesn’t recognize to go with faces - well, faces and a mask - he does know. 

By reputation if nothing else.

It looks like they’re in the middle of a heist or job or whatever the hell a crew like the Fakes get up to in city like this and things don’t look to be going well.

The footage changes, quality and angles, and it’s clear the videos comprised of clips Matt or someone else found and put together.

A couple of minutes long, but it paints one hell of a picture.

The Fakes after some pretty little shiny and running up against stronger opposition than they were prepared for and forced to call it off, private security and mercs and cops on their tail.

“Huh,” Jeremy says, because really. 

_Huh._

Matt’s giving him this look, all expectant like he’s waiting for some deep insight Jeremy’s come to after watching the video. Wants a damn essay on it or something.

“What was I supposed to get from that?” he ask instead, because this is Matt and Jeremy would be a fool to pass up a chance to make his life more difficult than it already it. 

The Fakes are good, or so the rumors say. Look like a disaster, but lucky as hell and more competent than you’d think, going from what people have seen of them. 

Have to be to have pulled off half the stuff they’ve done.

“God, right,” Matt sighs, all put-upon like Jeremy’s the asshole here. “I forgot who I was dealing with.”

Matt sets his laptop down on one of the piles surrounding his workstation and roots around until he pulls out a scrap of paper he shoves at Jeremy.

There’s an address on it, along with a doodle of a cat or dog or who even knows what it’s supposed to be other than tortured looking, like its very existence is endless pain and suffering.

“Alright,” Matt snaps, snatching the scrap of paper back, “I didn’t ask for a critique.”

Jeremy shrugs, little bit of a grin on his face at the expression he’s managed to put on Matt’s, all disgruntled and annoyed. 

“Sorry,” he says, and shrugs again. “Day job and all.”

No so much a day job as bullshit, Jeremy sitting on the sidewalk with a couple of folding chairs and sketches of people walking past on display waiting for someone to take pity on him. Toss him a few bucks for a caricature of them as a novelty to take home or toss in the trash when they’re out of sight,

And even all that’s bullshit, because it’s a great way to hide in plain sight, let him memorize guard routes and patrols and all kinds of useful things for his real job.

Matt knows all that, because they’ve been friends for a while now. Met shortly after Jeremy came to Los Santos looking to get answers to questions he’s been carrying with him for years now.

_How much did you get for it_ , and why the hell did you do it, and _do you know what I’m going to do to you after what you did to me? (Us?)_

They’ve been friends for a while and Matt’s been a big help in getting Jeremy closer to those answers he wants.

“The government’s been talking to them,” Matt says, waving that scrap of paper at them. “Going to them to fix problems they made.”

Sounds about right, really.

“And?”

Matt shrugs, looking anything but casual and nonchalant about it.

“Agent 14’s involved.”

That – okay, that’s interesting.

Agent 14 wasn’t part of the clusterfuck that ended the Battle Buddies, but Jeremy’s heard his name in his search for answers (revenge) too many times over the years for it to be a coincidence.

He just wants a chance to chat with the guy, find out what he knows and if he’d be willing to share. What kind of price tag he’d put on that kind of information.

“ _And?_ ”

Matt sighs, and holds the paper out to him.

“Maybe if you make friends with them you can get that chance to talk to Agent 14? The fuck do I know.”

========

There’s nothing funny about it, but it read like the setup to a shitty joke, two Fakes walking into a bar the way they do.

Dingy little place down by Vespucci beach with the kind of patrons you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley.

Mogar and Golden Boy, both of them pausing for a moment before they notice the guy in the mask at the back of the room in a corner booth.

Gun for hire who works with the Fakes from time to time, scary bastard who goes by the name Vagabond and one hell of a reputation to him.

According to Matt this bar and the surrounding neighborhood is something like neutral ground in Los Santos. Falls under the Vagabond’s protection for reasons no one understands but respect all the same out of fear or respect, it doesn’t matter in the end.

Neutral ground and where the Fakes go to meet with him, negotiate a deal with him for a heist or some other bit of business they want him on.

Jeremy watches them for a while as he nurses his drink, does his best to look like all the other sorry bastards drowning their sorrows. Must be doing a good job of it because he hasn’t gotten a sideways look from the Vagabond or the Fakes.

Waits a little bit longer, nerves or something else to it before he finishes off his beer and gets up. Leaves a tip for the waitress and walks over to that back corner booth.

Grins, all confidence and just a touch of bravado, and this little voice in the back of his head that’s asking him what the hell he thinks he’s doing.

Shoves that voice back down and clears his throat. 

Grins a little wider once the Fakes and the Vagabond look up at him.

Curiosity from the Golden Boy, odd sort of amusement from Mogar, and fuck knows from the Vagabond because of that mask of his.

“Uh,” Jeremy says, concern creeping in when the Vagabond chokes on his drink. “Are you okay?”

The Vagabond doesn’t answer because of the choking thing, but the Golden Boy steps in. Gives Jeremy this blinding smile as he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair.

“He’s fine,” he says, British accent and touch of a laugh as he leans forward, further drawing Jeremy’s attention away from the other two. “No need to worry about him.”

It’d be more convincing if the Vagabond wasn’t wheezing for air and Mogar wasn’t pounding the guy on the back, but sure, sure. 

“Right,” Jeremy drawls, “okay.”

The Vagabond is clearly not okay, but if the Golden Boy wants to act like he is, who is Jeremy to say otherwise?

“A friend of mine told me you were looking for help.”

Not in so many words, but, again, _Matt_.

Someone who doesn’t work in mysterious ways so much as utterly baffling ways at times. Operates under his unique brand of logic and you either learn to appreciate it or lose out by walking away.

Okay, so Jeremy could have taken a different approach, one that wouldn’t get him suspicious looks from the Golden Boy and Mogar.

Not a great way to start things off with them, but - 

“Matt Bragg?” Jeremy says.

Idiot knows a lot of people in Los Santos these days, and if he’s sending Jeremy to the Fakes like this, they must know him too.

Trust him to a certain extent.

The Golden Boy’s look of suspicion turns thoughtful as he looks Jeremy over. 

Assessing.

“You know Matt, do you?” he muses, gaze flitting towards Mogar and the Vagabond who seems to have gotten himself under control. “Interesting, that.”

Not really, no.

Jeremy shrugs, and takes a seat across from them when the Golden Boy waves a hand towards it. 

Mogar’s watching him, frown on his face, but he seems to be following the Golden Boy’s lead on this one. Letting him do the talking for them.

The Vagabond, though.

Staring at Jeremy.

A lot. 

Staring a lot at Jeremy.

Jeremy pretends not to notice, focuses on the Golden Boy instead.

“I guess so,” he says, and laughs. “I mean, it’s _Matt_.”

Weird bastard, if trustworthy.

The Golden Boy laughs, something like fondness in the curve of his smile.

“That’s true,” he agrees. “You said Matt told you we needed help?”

Matt hasn’t let Jeremy down once in all the time he’s known him, and if he says this is Jeremy’s best change to get the answers he’s been looking for all this time, he’ll do whatever it takes.

“Yeah,” Jeremy says. “Yeah, and I think I can help.”


End file.
